Zanoni eBook

He had proceeded about fifty yards, when he halted
abruptly; an unspeakable and unaccountable horror,
not hitherto experienced amidst all his peril, came
over him. He shook in every limb; his muscles
refused his will,—­he felt, as it were, palsied
and death-stricken. The horror, I say, was unaccountable,
for the path seemed clear and safe. The fire,
above and behind, burned clear and far; and beyond,
the stars lent him their cheering guidance. No
obstacle was visible,—­no danger seemed
at hand. As thus, spell-bound, and panic-stricken,
he stood chained to the soil,—­his breast
heaving, large drops rolling down his brow, and his
eyes starting wildly from their sockets,—­he
saw before him, at some distance, gradually shaping
itself more and more distinctly to his gaze, a colossal
shadow; a shadow that seemed partially borrowed from
the human shape, but immeasurably above the human stature;
vague, dark, almost formless; and differing, he could
not tell where or why, not only from the proportions,
but also from the limbs and outline of man.

The glare of the volcano, that seemed to shrink and
collapse from this gigantic and appalling apparition,
nevertheless threw its light, redly and steadily,
upon another shape that stood beside, quiet and motionless;
and it was, perhaps, the contrast of these two things—­the
Being and the Shadow—­that impressed the
beholder with the difference between them,—­the
Man and the Superhuman. It was but for a moment—­nay,
for the tenth part of a moment—­that this
sight was permitted to the wanderer. A second
eddy of sulphureous vapours from the volcano, yet
more rapidly, yet more densely than its predecessor,
rolled over the mountain; and either the nature of
the exhalation, or the excess of his own dread, was
such, that Glyndon, after one wild gasp for breath,
fell senseless on the earth.

CHAPTER 3.XI.

Mervale and the Italians arrived in safety at the
spot where they had left the mules; and not till they
had recovered their own alarm and breath did they
think of Glyndon. But then, as the minutes passed,
and he appeared not, Mervale, whose heart was as good
at least as human hearts are in general, grew seriously
alarmed. He insisted on returning to search for
his friend; and by dint of prodigal promises prevailed
at last on the guide to accompany him. The lower
part of the mountain lay calm and white in the starlight;
and the guide’s practised eye could discern
all objects on the surface at a considerable distance.
They had not, however, gone very far, before they
perceived two forms slowly approaching them.

As they came near, Mervale recognised the form of
his friend. “Thank Heaven, he is safe!”
he cried, turning to the guide.